Chapter 13 - The Condition Was Ethan’s Idea
Ethan was awake.
Of course he was.
Twelve-year-olds can hear parents whisper through walls that adults swear are thick.
I knocked.
“Come in.”
He was sitting on the floor beside his bed with a science worksheet.
I sat against the wall.
He looked at me.
“Mom told you.”
“Yes.”
He erased something.
Then erased the erasure.
“Why did you make the rule?”
“I didn't make a rule.”
“You told her I could only open the envelope if I was coming home.”
He shrugged.
“That's a rule.”
Another shrug.
I waited.
Finally:
“Because you read everything somewhere else.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Texts. Emails. Stuff from Mom.”
“Sometimes.”
“All the time.”
He put down the pencil.
“Then you call someone.”
I knew where this was going.
“Marcus.”
“Or Coach.”
“Sometimes.”
“Then you come home already mad.”
I stared at him.
He continued:
“I didn't want you reading Mom's note at the arena and calling Marcus before you talked to us.”
He had predicted me perfectly.
Worse than Marcus had.
Because Ethan wasn't manipulating me.
He was protecting the order of operations.
I looked toward his desk.
“You came to the arena because you thought I wouldn't come home otherwise.”
He didn't answer.
“Ethan.”
“A little.”
That hurt.
“I've never not come home.”
He looked at me.
The hotel existed between us.
I corrected myself.
“I mean before this.”
He said:
“Before this, you were still gone a lot.”
Road games.
Events.
Sponsor dinners.
Training.
Real obligations.
Convenient ones too.
“Why didn't Mom bring the envelope herself?”
“She said she would give it to you when you came over.”
“And you?”
“I didn't think you would.”
“So you brought it.”
He nodded.
“To a game you didn't want to watch.”
Another nod.
“And got dragged out of your seat.”
He looked down.
“Yeah.”
My chest tightened.
“I’m sorry.”
“For Raines?”
“For me.”
He looked up.
I continued.
“You shouldn't have had to make a delivery important enough to get me through my own front door.”
He rubbed at a pencil mark on his thumb.
“I didn't want you to miss the game.”
That surprised me.
“I would've.”
“No, you wouldn't.”
The confidence stung.
“You don't know.”
He looked at me.
I almost laughed.
Fair.
He continued:
“I just wanted to see if you'd say you were coming home before you knew what was in it.”
“Why?”
“Because then it wasn't about winning.”
I stared.
He had inherited too much language from our arguments.
“What did you think I was trying to win?”
“Whether Mom lied.”
I sat back against the wall.
Exactly.
That first night, if I had opened the letter in the arena, I would have called Marcus to verify.
Then Dana.
Then Nora.
By the time I got home, I would have arrived with a case.
Not a conversation.
Ethan picked up his pencil.
“I don't care if we move.”
I looked at him.
“You said you didn't want to.”
“I don't want to.”
“That's different.”
“Yes.”
He looked irritated that I needed the explanation.
“I don't care enough for you guys to do all this.”
“All what?”
“Make me the reason.”
I didn't speak.
He continued:
“Marcus said we should move because I'd like it. Mom said maybe we should stay because I need school normal. You said the team might decide.”
He looked at me.
“I just want somebody to decide something without saying it's for me.”
I nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“Also I don't want to live at the hotel.”
“You won't.”
“Or have Mom ask me what you said.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Does she?”
“Sometimes.”
I would talk to her.
Not now.
Ethan picked up the worksheet again.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you sleeping here?”
“Guest room.”
He thought about it.
“Okay.”
I stood.
At the door he said:
“And I'm not quitting basketball forever.”
I turned.
“I didn't ask.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
I closed the door behind me.
Downstairs, Nora was waiting.
I could have told her what Ethan said about her asking questions through him.
Instead I said:
“We both stop using him to carry information.”
She looked at me.
Then nodded.
No defense.
No countercharge.
That night I slept in the guest room.
May you like
At 6:17 the next morning, Dana texted.
Call me before practice. The offer is real now.
